Avengers: War games
by 3.14rate
Summary: Barely half a year passed since the battle of New York, an omnipotent being from another dimension approaches Earth, drawn towards the unfolding events across the Marvel universe. It brought together all of the heroes as unwilling participants, forcing them into a battle which they cannot avoid, a battle against one another. In order to survive, the rest must die, and many will.


**A/N: A story taking place months after the events of the New York attack during the first Avengers movie. An omnipotent being is drawn towards the events taken place in the marvel universe. It seeks conflict, destruction, and the one strongest of them all. **

**Loosely inspired by Battle Royale / Hunger games.**

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><p><strong>Prologue Part 1: Start.<strong>

He was but a single being in a galaxy of countless trillions, yet his very essence affected the lives of all that were in existence, beings of both past, present and future. He had been there at the very start, and in many different multiverses, he saw himself at the very end. For millenniums, he had slept, and upon his redivivus, the universe itself trembled.

There was but a shimmer of light at the very edge of empty space, a sector of nothingness but a darkened barren void, a brief second of light as a hooded figure warped into actuality. The being looked towards the distant stars, as his eyes sought for others, beings who upon their own birth, shaped the multiverse they inhabit. Beings that he would pit against one another, men and women he found worthy, that he would force to participate in bloody battle, to fight and to kill, until the strongest remained.

The clanking sounds of chains resonated emptily throughout the desolate space as the being raised a single finger. Chains of seemingly metallic properties hung off the edge of his limbs, his extremities were pale, like skin absent of blood. Black swirls twisted across it's face, like a torrent it swept across his body, engulfing his colorless arms in a shade of black. It gathered at the edge of his fingertips, revealing a featureless face beneath his hooded figure, like a mannequin.

Darkened energy formed where he stood, he allowed the electricity to writhe through his body, gathering at where he pointed before they expended into the horizon, towards the warriors he sought.

It was not the first time in history such an event would be held, nor would it be the last.

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><p><strong>Paris: 23:49 PM<strong>

The two sat in an otherwise empty hall, their table illuminated by a single chandelier held high above their heads. It was not an easy task to get a reservation in this renowned three Michelin star restaurant, much less foot it's crazy price tag, yet none of those seemed to have hindered the man. Apparently, he even rented out the entire place for this night.

The woman was being somewhat fussy at that moment, though he did not mind. The man smiled at the way she constantly fidgeted with her dress, the night consisting of many complains of how low and tight it was. Still, she was more than a sight to behold, from the way her dress hung to her curves, all the way to how her blue eyes were lit by the two tiny candles set in front of them.

She pushed back a strand of blonde hair, "I thought after the whole New York incident, we were supposed to be keeping a low profile. Renting out the most booked restaurant in France does not exactly imply, laying low."

"I would have preferred flying out to that private island of ours," he replied with half a grin, "feeling the sun wash over us in the morning, enjoying how the waves would curl around our feet by the beach, and you know, making love all night long while listening to the sounds of the ocean."

"But," he continued, "for now, the love mak-, I mean, the beach would have to wait."

Though his playful expression remained unchanged, he was not as composed as he looked. His fingers dug nervously into his pocket for the hundredth time that night, making sure that the tiny box was right where it was supposed to be.

He had spent weeks, going through appointments, meetings and eventually rejecting over a dozen well known luxury designers. Eventually, he ended up with something simple, yet meaningfully elegant. A tiny design he drawn out, it's specifications given to JARVIS and within minutes, a beautifully crafted ring sat in his palm, still warm from the adamantium he constructed from.

It was not something he had expected of himself, not even close. It made him unsure, he had been in more relationships, got involved with more women than he could remember. Yet there was something just so unbelievably special about her. Between the periodic swings from bitter argument to sweet resolution, he knew more than anything else, that she was all he would ever need.

What happened not more than two months ago was still fresh in his mind, the emotions he experienced when he pushed the nukes through the portal, thinking that he would never see her again, he knew, that he just couldn't live without her.

Her eyes softened when he eventually stopped with his comical comebacks, realizing the seriousness beneath that facade of his. "What's going on?" They found his and searched deep within him as she her palm grazed concernedly against his unshaven chin. He pressed his palm against hers, holding it against him.

"I... I've got something to... tell you. Please don't interrupt."

"I realized something... that I've never thought much about. During the battle of New York... I mean, I know it's a topic that we have not touched much on. You know that the main reason for all my late night tinkering in our basement was because I have not gotten a good night's rest since then."

"But that is not what I'm trying to bring up today. I realized during the attack, that even upon an intergalactic species's alien invasion of our home planet, the one thing most on my mind, was none other than you. Even in the midst of battle, I can't help but to wonder if you're... safe."

"You have absolutely zero idea how hard I've fought the compulsion, to resist just leaving all of the Avengers back there in New York and instead fly towards your direction, just to make sure you're alright."

"I... I was not surprised at my lack of... you know, I was always a selfish man. Your safety, mine, our lives together, that's all that mattered. I'm not a brave man like Steve, I can't lay down my life for a greater cause, I need you, more than anything else."

"I just can't live without you, Pepper."

And as Tony Stark got down onto one knee, he brought out the tiny box he had kept with him since that day, "I know that I'm really not that nice of a person, and I'll probably make a lot more mistakes which you'll hate me for, but Pepper, will you-"

Yet before he could finish his sentence, there was a flash of light, it lasted for barely a quarter of a second, but a shimmer nonetheless. When it was over, only Pepper Potts remained in that empty room, looking very much flustered and confused at his sudden disappearance.

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><p><strong>Washington, DC: 05:43 AM<strong>

He had already finished close to fifty laps around the Triskelion before dawn broke over the Washington skyline. He was barely breaking a sweat, wiping himself with a towel as he jogged past the S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters's guard post for his final lap, he waved towards the men standing guard.

It would have been a lot easier and far more convenient for him to have just used the Triskelion's gym facilities, five actual levels were entirely converted into an environment for the S.H.I.E.L.D agents to train in. It was by no means a small gym, but for a man ripped from the past and thrown abruptly into the twenty first century, there was nothing more he loved than to be out in the open, to explore, to see new and wonderful sights.

The world of today was vastly different from where he had came from, gone were the skies full of industrial smog, beautiful trees were now planted by every sidewalk. With well controlled regulations and a proficient traffic system, the claustrophobic existence of the 1940s seemed like nothing but a fleeting memory. The last thing he wanted would be to have found himself locked in a building, even if it had air conditioning, one of the many marvels of current day technology.

Obviously it was not easy to get used to at first, but as he found himself lost more in the culture of modern day society, from music to art, to movies and food, the part of him wanting to go back became smaller as each day passed. Yet as much as he enjoyed living in the present, there were times too when he reminisced about the past, things were much simpler then, not of the war, but of memories, of summers spent as a child, of terraced houses and gardens, clothesline strung between olive trees, the taste of an ocean's breeze, rich scent of warm pie.

He visited her of course, though sometimes she was not in the capacity to recognize who he was. Mostly she slept, though on certain days she spoke to him, some clearer than the rest. She laid on a bed in front of him, her frail body covered with blankets, an oxygen mask over the bottom half of her face, with at least half a dozen IV drips running into her body.

He watched as she twitched, murmured in her sleep, his fingers seeking out hers, gently squeezing her hand. Her eyelids flickered softly in response, slowly as they looked over in his direction.

"Hey Peggy..."

He tried to present her with a gentle smile, wondering if she would recognize him today. On most days she did not, thinking of him as nothing more than a stranger, or a doctor perhaps. On some, her mind receded to an earlier place, maybe with the image of him being exactly the same as he was more than sixty years ago, her mind perceived it as it was back then.

When she was in that state, she became easily confused, unaware of her surroundings, and it hurt him more than anything else to see her that way.

Yet there were days, seldom as they were, when her mind was in full clarity. They would talk for hours, sharing stories, though he would do most of the talking as her health was not what it once was. He would ask of the men he once knew, listened as she told him of her adventures with S.H.I.E.L.D after the second world war.

On those days, everything in the world felt just right, the high speed modern world of which he was not used to, seemed to no longer exist, only the space between them both did.

Their eyes met for a brief moment, and hers lit right up in recognition.

"Steve?..."

But before he could respond, there was but another shimmer where he sat, and seconds later, it was like as if he was never there to begin with, only the whirling  
>sounds of the medical machines remained.<p>

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><p><strong>Undisclosed location: 03:42 AM<strong>

He left only when darkness engulfed the city around him, it was not as much cover for himself, than to make his target an easier mark. He had already familiarized himself with the different vantage points, the security and access routes, it was a standard op, low on the threat assessment matrix, nothing should go wrong.

So why the hell was it raining fire?

He leapt over a pair of stairs, landed in a squat on a lower level of the building, he pivoted and with speed faster than most eyes could track, pulled out a stick looking object from behind him. There was a tiny biometric scanner which instantly recognized his fingerprints, prompting two smaller shafts to instantly expand from it's two ends, held together by a thin thread running down it's center. A bow.

Wood splinters exploded around him, too close as he let loose a barrage of arrows in response, hearing the thump of a falling body as he rolled towards cover, sending yet another perfectly accurate arrow in the direction of another armed man. He watched as his assailant staggered backwards, a look of disbelief clouding the man's face as he stared at the arrow protruding from his chest.

"Hawk-1 on way to target," the archer whispered as he moved stealthily along the corridors, listening as gunfire erupted in the distance. He felt a warm flush of heat as another explosion boomed nearby, closer than the previous. He was supposed to be after a white collar criminal, not stumbling into a whole damned terrorist cell.

"Wait, something's wrong, I can't-" he dived as as bullets tore into the wall behind him, rolling to his right and quickly snapping his bow forward, his hands a flurry as he fired and reloaded, watching two arrows landing short before the third pierced right through the other man's thigh.

The gunman dropped his gun in pain, enough for Hawkeye to quickly run in his direction, jumping and crashing right into the injured man, sending them both tumbling into the tables behind. They grasped at one another as they rolled across the deserted room, with the archer eventually gaining an upper hand, his nostrils flaring with exertion as he fell down to the ground, exhausted.

The other guy laid where they landed, his eyes still open, neck broken.

Getting back up onto his feet, he quickly moved into the shadows by the side of the windows, watching as several men gathered in the room below his, he reached for his quiver, slightly annoyed that he had only a single arrow left. "Hawk-1 in position."

He drew the arrow, feeling the string going taunt as it pulled backwards, he slowed down his breathing, blinking away a stray trail of sweat as he locked onto his target. He exhaled, and released, watching as the arrow penetrate the window before them, as it flew into the room opposite of his, hitting the edge of a table at a certain degree, sending the arrow into a spin, shooting to the left side, right into a stockpile of unarmed bombs. A angle not accessible by a direct shot.

He was not rewarded with the sight of an exploding warehouse, but it certainly would have impressed him. Instead only a shimmer of light was left where he had fired his weapon, and that too, lasted only for a second.

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><p><em>Some time later...<em>

_The smell of blood, it was all over the air. A flash shade of red, covered him in it's entirety. Bodies were strewn all around him, dead, rotting. His weapon fell onto the ground beside him, a broken shield, it's ragged edges fashioned into a sword of sorts, stained bright red in blood still dripping._

_The man looked into the skies, towards twin suns that never seemed to set._

**Prologue Part 1: End.**

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><p>Do leave a review if enjoyed (; .<p> 


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